


We Get What We Deserve

by Blushingjared



Series: We Get What We Deserve [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O dymanics, Blowjobs, Cannon level violence, Drinking, F/M, Fingering, Grinding, Implied Smut, Kidnapping, Multi, Religious Upbringing, Slight/Mild Torture, Smut, Tattoo Kink, death of parents, major injury to reader, mention of drugs, not all tags listed, on-going series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blushingjared/pseuds/Blushingjared
Summary: You’ve grown up hearing stories of a vengeful God. How his wrath is mightier than anything known to man. You counted yourself lucky that you were never the reason for God’s Almighty Power; except now, you were. After losing your family and being forced into a permanent dream like state, by God. You’re used as distraction for Team Free Will, the three men that you’ve fantasized about for years. You know them as the saviors in your favorite books, but now they need to focus and try their best to save you.





	1. Can Anybody Hear Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tumblr (@blushingjared)
> 
> So…I don’t know what else to say really. Let me know what you think and if this series interests you. Beta’d by @ sweetness47

A mother sits alone in a dark hospital room. To her right, her daughter sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. Gentle sobs from the lonely mother mix with the continuous beeping noises of the machines that are keeping her daughter alive. The woman begs, pleads, with a trembling voice as she recites her prayers. 

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. I beg you Lord. Please release my daughter from this pain. I-I know you have your reasons Lord.” Her tearful eyes linger on her daughter for another moment before her hands drop from her prayer to gently take ahold of her daughters hand.

“If this be your will Lord, then give me the strength to withstand it.” She takes in a shuddering breath before slumping back and wiping away at her tears with the back of her hand. Minutes tick by as the mother becomes exhausted and falls asleep in the hospital chair, hand still clasped around her daughters.

One of the nurses in the ward glances up at the clock on the wall. She needs to make her nightly run through of the patients, mostly the ones with critical conditions. Grabbing her clipboard, she goes to stand and head to her first patient. Someone catches her attention though.

The man looks average in most ways, he isn’t too tall or short. Neither too handsome or too unattractive. He’s got soft eyes and a gentle smile as he wears a red suit jacket. She can’t put a name to the face, but assume he’s a family member of someone in her ward.

“Can I help you?” She asks, tilting her head as he steps closer. Though he looks average, the nurse feels some sort of energy radiating off of him and she isn’t sure how to place it.

“Yes,” The man clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. They must have been behind his back because almost out of nowhere the man produces a bouquet of flowers. “I’m looking for my niece, Y/N Y/L/N.” That name she recognizes, but gives him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry sir. Only family members listed on their contact information are allowed past visiting hours. I’m happy to take them to her though.” She reaches out to take the flowers, but Chuck pulls them closer to his chest.

“I think you’ll find I’m on the list. Chuck Shurley.” After a bit of hesitation, the nurse pulls the clipboard from under her arm to take a look through Y/N’s file. Right underneath the girl’s mother and father, his name is listed. She could have sworn it was only the two.

“Well then, right this way sir.” Chuck follows close behind as they maneuver their way down the corridors.

“I didn’t hear much about what happened. Do you mind telling me how Y/N ended up here?”

The nurse gives a small ‘tsk’ before shaking her head. “It’s such a shame, really. The mother comes in with her daughter and husband, blubbering about..” She pauses to look back at the notes within the file. “That’s right, about Angels. Woman believes one of them came down and tried to take the three of them up to heaven.”

Poking her head inside, the nurse looks around the room to see if Y/N’s mother was asleep. She shakes her head slightly and sets the files on the table, Turing back to face Chuck. The name suited him, she thought, before performing her routine check up on the girl

“They were ready to be taken to heaven, until he just stopped and let them go. Apparently, her husband had already died and the angel was in the midst of taking her daughter. As far as it goes medically, their bodies were perfectly fine, they just stopped working. At least her daughter’s body was able to recover most of her bodily functions. Most of her brain shut down though, not long after she was brought here. Sort of like a coma, but more like she’s in a really long nap.”

Chuck cleared his throat as he set the flowers down. “How’s the mom?” He asked as his gaze lingers on you, his head tilting as he narrows his eyes slightly.

“Inconsolable. She keeps begging for Heaven to come back down and finish what they promised. It’s insane, really.” A heavy sigh leaves the nurses mouth. “I feel bad. I really do.” With that said, she finishes her check up and heads to the door. “It’s good that they have more family. You need that in times like these.” Turning back around, the nurse shuts the door and leaves the room to go check on other patients.

Chuck snaps his fingers and locks the door, head turning to the mother and stepping closer. He smirks slightly as he snaps his fingers and both women awake.

Your eyes fly open and you struggle to breathe, with the tube that had been helping your body only moments earlier, still stuck in your throat. Though it’s barely there, you notice a sick and twisted smile on his lips. You try to call out for your mother, although nothing comes out.

Your mothers eyes lift to Chuck and before she can form words, she’s on her knees. Hands on the edges of his pants, pleading once more like she had during her prayer. “Oh Lord. You heard my prayer, you came back. I..I cannot thank you enough. Please, finish what you started. Take us with you.”

The man you knew as your Father’s murderer was standing right in front of you. You recognized him now. You knew what he was, but it all seemed impossible. It couldn’t really be him.

“Oh I will,” he grinned as he looked down upon your mother. He let his smirk drop to a frown as he snapped his fingers. You cried out, trying your best to do anything but something was forcing you down, an invisible pressure making you unable to sit up or pull the tube out to call for help.

Chuck was forcing you to watch as your mother’s body dropped to the ground, lifeless and nothing more than an empty shell. It only caused more tears to stream down your face, more pain to fill your heart. Not only had you been forced to watch your father die, now he had made you live through the same thing with your mother.

Taking a step over your mother’s corpse, he stepped towards you and smiled. With a snap of his fingers, the tube was removed from your throat, but the force was still there, still pining your body to the hospital bed.

“You…You can’t be real. This…This is just a dream.” You sob, knowing deep inside this was real, but unable to come to terms with what was happening.

“We both know that’s not true Y/N. This is real, all of it.” He grins and runs a hand over your face. “Oh don’t worry, I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Resisting the urge to spit on his face, you stay calm and snarl at him instead. “I want my parents back.” A wave of sadness washes over Chuck and you half believe it’s because you’ve made him realize what his actions are. Of course he doesn’t and instead he pulls away from you, sighing in disappointment before ranting.

“No! Don’t you see? You and The Winchesters won’t fall in love unless you go through the same trauma of losing your parents to something supernatural. Think about it!”

“Sam and Dean aren’t real! They’re just characters from a book.” Chuck simply shakes his head, clearly you don’t understand.

“You lack imagination Y/N. I would have thought all that fanficition you write about my world would have made you more open to the fact that there’s more out there than you realize.” You desperately want to think he’s crazy, but the part of you that knows this might be true is growing more confident that..Supernatural was real.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You beg for an answer. “I’m nothing special.” A pained noise leaves your throat as he shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t, but I’m gonna make you special. Sam and Dean will be so busy dealing with you that they’ll forget to even come look for me.” Chuck grinned as he watched you look at him in horror. “Now, go back to sleep.” With a snap of his fingers, you fall back on the bed, asleep like he wanted.

Chuck picks you up and snaps his fingers, taking you away from the life you had once been apart of, and bringing you with him the the one you’d always dreamed of. He needed to bring you to Sam and Dean, but he also needs to plan things out, figure out the full plot of the story. Figure out where he wanted the story to go next, now that he had you.

So, he dropped you off in Lebanon, not five miles from The Bunker, right at the nurses station and then disappeared. He was confident in the fact that you would be found and then placed back under the care of doctors. He had things to do now, but he was certain you were going to enjoy your first dream.

~~~

Dean doesn’t ever really have good dreams. More often than not, he’ll have nightmares. It’s just something he’s had to deal with ever since he can remember. Tonight is one of those good nights. He dreams of saving a cute girl from a witch and getting a more than deserved thank you. It’s nice, the girl is pretty and more than eager to give Dean whatever he needs.

His eyes snap open as he hears voices begin to talk outside of his room. He grumbled and turns his body onto his side. “Do you think he’s ok? Dean didn’t say much on the drive back from the cemetery.” Sammy’s voice cut through the wood of the door as Dean pulled his pillow over his head to try and block out the noise.

Soon enough, Cas and Sam had walked away and Dean could sleep in peace. He remembered the girl’s face and her name from the dream. He didn’t know why she stuck with him, but it didn’t matter. When he drifted off and back to sleep, Dean thought of Y/N again. There was just something about her that made him feel that whatever God had planned for them, it would be ok.


	2. Cherry Flavored Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester has been compared to the Rock Gods of old. He’s rebellious, gorgeous as hell, and an amazing musician. Times have become tough for his band though and with no one else to turn to, he decides to go solo. His manager wants to spread the word, so he offers Common Measure, the magazine you work at, an exclusive interview with Dean. Knowing you need to prove yourself, you offer to perform it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is heavily inspired by the movie Rock of Ages and Tom Cruise’s character (I save heavily when really most of this is lifted straight from it). I absolutely love the tattoos from it and so this Fic was born. I am also in love with the song Wanted Dead or Alive and I hope y’all enjoy my longest fic to date. (Beta'd by: @impandagrl. My tumblr: @blushingjared)

“Y/N! Get in here!” A voice screamed out for you as you picked your head up. You’d had your nose buried in your work, but being yelled at seemed to refocus you to the present. You quickly collected the few stacks of paper on your desk and rushed towards your boss’s office.

Your boss, Thomas Gallagher, ran Common Measure, a pop culture and music industry magazine centered in the hub of it all, LA. Being his assistant wasn’t easy, he was constantly looking over your shoulder, making you scramble to reach the deadlines he set and had you attempting to get exclusive interviews for the good of the magazine. All the while, you were trying to learn how to be a better reporter.

It was your dream after all. Working for a publication like Common Measure. You’d ached to be in the center of gossip and learn what was really going on behind the people that everyone always looked up to. Most would call what you wanted to do harmful. All you wanted to do was get to the bottom of a story. That’s what mattered, the story.

“Yes, sir?” You squeaked as the man swiveled around to face you in the giant chair behind his desk. The weight of the paper stacks that you had grabbed making your arms ache with exertion. This job was harder than you had initially expected and you half wished you had listened to your mother’s warnings more closely.

She hated that you wanted to escape the boring life that was planned for you as an Omega. You needed more, you needed to be able to choose your own path, and right now, that didn’t include an Alpha.

Thomas reached forwards and opened his desk drawer to slide a CD towards you. You recognized the artist, Dean Winchester; rockstar, playboy, and public rebel. “I need you to get an interview for me.” Your eyes went wide as he spoke. “Dean’s decided to go solo.” The news shocked you.

Team Free Will, a band made up of Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Castiel Novak had been formed almost a decade ago. While the group wasn’t nearly as popular as it had been in recent years, the more pressing issue was the fact that your boss was asking you to handle such an important assignment on your own- and as your first interview for the company.

“Sir? Are-are you sure? I mean this-“ Thomas’s voice cut you off.

“If I had any other option besides you, I’d be sending them in there, but none of my other reporters will go. He’s got a reputation for uh…sleeping around with the press.” He cleared his throat and looked up at you. “And the other half complain he’s too hard to work with, which is why I’m sending you.” He smirked, standing up and stepping towards you.

“I understand, sir, but still…I’d need time to research and- and..” You trailed off as your boss sat on the edge of his desk. Never in your life would you have dreamed of giving up a story. This was the opportunity of a lifetime

“You’ll have time. Team Free Will is performing at The Roadhouse next week as the start of the band’s farewell tour. You’ll go then. If you can get a good interview out of him, I’ll promote you to a real journalist Y/N..”

Words formed in your mouth but none left. It’s impossible. He was dangling the golden apple right in your face; giving you everything you wanted. All you have to do is complete an impossible task.

“Okay sir. I’ll do it.”

After a week of research on Dean Winchester, you’d come to the conclusion that the man had to be going insane. Despite having sold out shows, none of his current work had been doing any chart topping. And to make matters worse, the band hadn’t released a full album in at least two years. You could only assume it was because Dean had been growing ever increasingly harder to work with. Story after story came up with how Dean would show up to sessions drunk, high, or with the random guy or girl of the day. He would spend thousands of dollars a day on his life philosophy about “knowing yourself” as he would say it.

Born and raised in Kansas, he had a rough home life growing up. An absent mother and a more than likely abusive father, Dean seemed to have only one family member that he still kept in touch with, his baby brother. He had left home when Sam turned 18 and brought along his high school sweetheart, Lisa Braden.

Dean began playing covers of classic rock bands with Sam in his mid 20’s before adding Castiel Novak to the group four years later. Not only was Dean able to play the guitar, but he also played piano, drums, bass and sang (although when the group performed he stuck to guitar and vocals). Sam played bass and back up vocals, while Castiel rounded them out with drums.

At some point after the band’s first original album, that high school sweetheart seemed to disappear, only to be replaced by an endless string of lovers that couldn’t resist a Rock God Alpha, alcohol and drugs. While there was a period of 5 good years, the other half of the band’s decade had been filled with mediocre hit after mediocre hit.

It was obvious Dean had grown out of favor with the public, but Dean couldn’t let that stand, even to the point of going solo and picking fights with his bandmates, Sam included. He needed to be in the spotlight, otherwise he’d have to actually think about what he’d done in his life. While you’d known some of those details already, no one had put them together in a way you had.

Now, standing in line outside the Roadhouse, you felt fully prepared for this interview. You’d had your concerns that being here, where Team Free Will had played their first concert would be daunting. Instead, you had a focused drive to rip the man’s life story from him.

What had to be thousands of fans had lined up around the outside of the small bar. Bulky security guards stood around them, holding back hoards of screaming fans. Mostly Omegas by the smell. You crinkled your nose at the scents of sweat and slick. It almost made you want to vomit.

A large security guard opened the door and asked to see your pass. You raised the Press Pass that was dangling around your neck and tilted it towards him. He grunted and nodded his head, indicating she could enter. A second guard walked up to you soon after. “I’m here to take you to the green room, Miss Y/L/N.” You gave the man a soft nod before falling behind him.

Crowley MacLeod stood outside the double doors that must have been the entrance to the greenroom. He offered you a smile, though it felt ice cold. You knew the man was Dean’s Manager. A harsh and ruthless individual and though he was always ahead of the curve on what the music industry was looking for, never really cared about what it actually meant to be a musician.

“Miss Y/L/N I presume.” He extended his hand towards you and after a moment, you took his hand in a firm grasp and shook. While most accents seemed to put people at ease, Crowley’s only made you shiver. “It’s always a pleasure to work with Common Measure.” The man held your hand a little too long for your liking, but eventually he let go. Turning around, he pushed open the doors and walked into the room.

A wave of sex hit you, the smell was so bad that it physically made you stumble. Once you’d straightened up, you tugged your bag closer to your chest, hoping it would ground you. Not long after that, the tell tale odor of weed hit you next. Your eyes lingered on the pool table in the center of the room, where Dean Winchester lay.

An omega woman up on the table with him, lying legs extended, legs extended for Dean to place his head on, a cowboy hat placed over his face. Four Omegas, two women and two men, stood by the bar, huddled around another man making them all drinks. It took every last cell in your body not to roll your eyes, but you manage to control yourself for the moment. Bottles of empty booze, food trash and a comical amount of drugs litter the room as well. It feels so damn cliche for Dean to really be as bad as what you’d been reading. 

Crowley ushered you closer, and you’re able to get a better look at his body. He’s wearing what had to be the tightest leather pants that you’d seen on a man, a matching leather jacket lays fanned out so that anyone can see his chest- seeing as he was bare underneath.

While you’d seen what his looked like before, seeing them in person was a whole other ordeal.

They were enough to make you swoon. You had to quickly check yourself before unconsciously tugging the pencil skirt you wore further down your legs. An indisputable sense of connection hit you out of nowhere. You could smell his scent from here and while the weed and smell of sex is definitely there, underneath there’s a layer of whiskey and something sweet, cherries if you had to pick something.

The most eye catching of his tattoos were the dual pistols drawn over his v-line. To onlookers, it seemed like the guns were being holstered around his belt. Over his left pec an intricate heart was drawn, the word Mary written in cursive. The first thoughts that popped into your head were something to the affect of, sexy.

You averted your eyes, while Crowley leaned forward and spoke into Dean’s ear. “Hey Dean, there’s someone here to meet you.” He turned around to look back at you, making you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The information didn’t seem to be too important to the Rock God as he continued to lounge on the table. Crowley gave you an awkward laugh before turning back to Dean.

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N from Common Measure. She’s got a couple questions for you to answer.” You held back a laugh as Dean continued to lay there. Of course. One of the male Omega’s behind you giggled, the other three of the pack leaned in and whispered to each other as they stared at you. You forced yourself to remember that you didn’t care what they thought, you were here to do a job.

Crowley must have finally said something that got Dean’s attention as he began to sit up. “Common Measure…” He trailed off as he moved the hat off of his face and set it aside. Dean dropped his feet to the floor and looked around before turning to face you, the sunglasses on his face, hiding his eyes. “Where’s Thomas?” His voice was gruff and full of sleep, he looked around again before looking back at Crowley.

“Thomas is a little busy, so he sent his newest reporter, Y/N. She’s here to do a report on your new solo career, Dean.” A groan fell through Dean’s lips as he turned away from you both, Crowley gripped his arm, whispering something once more that convinced Dean to do what Crowley wanted. 

After a pause, Dean slowly turned back to you; that cold, heartless smile spread across Crowley’s face. He stepped back from and clapped his hands together. “You know what? I’m gonna leave you two alone.” He began to back out from the room. “Gotta return some phone calls.” With one last wink he was gone. “Play nice!” He called out behind him.

Finally alone, well sort of, Dean gave you a proper once over. The attention made you once again lower your gaze the floor. Your tongue peeked out and ran over your bottom lip. Seconds ticked by before you extended your hand to Dean. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Something about you must have bored him, because he didn’t even look at you. Your hand still stuck out, waiting for a hand shake. Before you could say something else, a high pitched scream rang out and made your head turn.

A blonde haired girl ran past the still-open doors, past the distracted security guards and right up to Dean. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I love you Dean!” The guards finally reacted to the runaway fan, but stilled as she opened up her shirt and proudly showed off the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. 

Your eyes widened as you watched the small omega unashamedly show off her tits. Dean held up a hand to hold her off from coming any closer. Once more he looked towards you and stepped in close. He grinned as he slid his hand along your waist and into the bag hanging at your side. An almost inaudible gasp left your lips as he touched you. Warmth began to blossom through your body as he did. Dean must have found what he was looking for as he pulled out your sharpie and bit down on the cap to pull it off.

The girl began to pant heavily as Dean reached down and began to sign his name on the girl’s chest. You and the fan made eye contact for a split second, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact that another woman was watching this happen.

When you turned away, you noticed Dean’s face was turned towards you. Though you couldn’t actually tell, you were certain he had been staring right back at you the whole time. Once his name was proudly written on the womans tits, he leaned forwards and kissed the girls cheek, making the omega moan and release a distinct scent of slick. Only then did the two security guards decide to pick her up and drag her back out.

She continued to call out for Dean, though. “I love you. Love you…” Her voice echoed out. Dean spitting the cap from his mouth brought your attention back to him. You offered your hand out for the sharpie and he moved to hand it back. At the last second, he dropped it to the floor on purpose and brushed past you to sit down on one of the couches provided for him.

Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you picked up both the pen and cap, wiping away the saliva from the later before setting the /used/ item back into your bag. “Okay…you get five minutes.” Dean slumped back, arms stretched out. A sense of panic flooded your systems.

Though it wasn’t nearly enough time to get what you needed, it was the best you were going to get from him. You scrambled to pull out your voice recorder to set on the table then grabbed a pen and your notebook filled with the list of questions you had prepared. Once sitting, you shouldered your jacket off and looked back at Dean.

“Five minutes.” He slurred as he looked at his watch. “Anndddddddddddddd…” He trailed off for a second as you waited eagerly for your time to start. “Go.”

“Okay, Dean Winchester, back at the Road-“ Dean cut you off with his voice, still looking at his watch. Confused, you waited.

“No, no, no.” He paused yet again as he looked at his watch. “Now go.” Dean gave you a soft smirk before settling back into the couch.

“A-at the Road House where it all started.” The pause had made you stumble for a moment, but you were eager to get back on track. “Your first album gave birth to some of rock’s greatest anthems and now a solo career. Why now?” You tilted your head as you waited for a response.

Dean’s eyes lingered on your voice recorder, leaning forwards to pick it up and bring it closer to his mouth. He looked relatively serious as he answered. “Well, due to the changing nature of the music industry. The changing uh…” he stuck his hand out and gave a small wave as he thought. “Cultural trends. And uh… when you think of blah, blah, blah..”

Unable to contain his smile, Dean grinned at you and started laughing as he continued. “Especially once you take in blah, blah, blah.” You sighed and sat back, unamused by his joke. Dean laughed so hard that he even let out a snort, although it was much more likely that he simply didn’t care about this interview. You’d have to push back and not be afraid to be mean to him. While daunting, yes, he was still just a man…

“Four Minutes.” Dean still laughed every so often, but extend the recorder to you, holding on to it. Giving your question list a once over, you leaned forwards to ask him your next question.

“You know,” you started, eyes narrowing at him. “Some people say that you’ve become quite difficult to work with. That you’re constantly late, reclusive, sometimes even nonsensical.” Dean pulled the recorder back towards his mouth and tilted his head as he looked at you.

“And I ask you this, have these /people/ even met themselves?” Yet, again he extended the recorder back to you. A part of you wondered if he’s doing this to try and keep control of the interview and that he’s afraid to let go of his control of every situation.

Pursing your lips together, you decided to hit him with the answer. “Well, I’m talking about your band.” A silence fell between you before he scooted closer and looked over at you. He seemed to not believe you, perhaps because his own brother is included in that. Perhaps he couldn’t believe his brother would say that about him.

Dean pulled the recorder away and whispered. “Let me tell you something. I know me better than anyone else.” To you, he sounded more than a little defensive. “Because I live in here.” He pointed to his head, before reaching down to grab one of the bottles of scotch on the table.

He used the top of it to push the sides of his sunglasses up. Tipping his bottle to you, he looked back down at his watch. “Eight minutes.” He spoke into the recorder. It throws you because even the man’s own timeline is being fucked up. Is he so drunk that he can’t keep five minutes straight in his head?

“You just said four.” You leaned forward, your anger so great it seeps into your words; the need to call him out is so overwhelming, you don’t even consider taking advantage of his slip up. You had gotten absolutely nowhere with him.. You needed something about Dean Winchester to bring back.

Realizing his mistake, Dean brought the recorder back to his mouth. “Three.”

“But you..” Dean dropped the thing back down onto the table, making a loud THUD noise.

“Do you think that it’s possible that you shut out and alienated so many people in your life that you had no other option, but to go solo?” Of course, Dean wasn’t paying attention. Instead his focus is on the bottle of booze in his hand. He has it completely tipped over and poured the last drop into his mouth, giving it a little shake even, to make sure that nothing else would come out. He held it above his head for a couple more seconds before swallowing and bringing it back down.

“Gotta stay true to the music. Hey dude! Can I get some more Scotch?” He leaned to the side to catch eyes with the bartender. The man smirked and pushed a small trolley towards the both of you, filled with what must be the most expensive alcohol you’ve ever seen.

It sits closer to you, so that Dean had to walk towards you to get it. His crotch now eye level with you and the tight leather left nothing to imagination. You could clearly see the outline of his cock and that made your face burn red. It’s more than a little hard to focus on asking him another question. He leaned forward to reach out for a bottle planting his hips squarely in front of your face and pressing forward. You had to lean away for his body not to mash into your face. Dean didn’t even seem to notice what he’s done. 

“Who is you’re mu-muse?” You stumbled again as Dean popped open the top of the bottle and resumed drinking. When Dean didn’t answer, you cursed under your breath and resituated yourself in the chair. You needed to glance down at your notes to figure out where you left off in your list of questions.

“One Dean Winchester, raised in Lebanon Kansas, raised by a Mother who died when you were four and your Father who died almost 12 years ago now. You dropped out of High School in 11th grade. Your first concert was Aerosmith. And you were 22 when you hitchhiked with your little brother all the way to L.A., along with your High School Sweetheart.” All of this was information you already knew but there was a point you were trying to make. “Remember her?”

Dean’s face grew somber, his eyes focused on the bottle of scotch in his hand and he didn’t answer. “No comment?” You let a teasing tone bleed through, it was enjoyable to watch him have nothing to say. He inhaled and glanced at his watch.

“Two minutes.” His voice was soft, his teasing smile from earlier completely gone.

“Did I hit a nerve?” You smiled and sat back, enjoying the look on his face. He was close to cracking, you could tell. “Was it Aerosmith? Lebanon?” You paused as you leaned forwards to whisper to him. “High School Sweetheart?”

Dean continued to say nothing as he dropped his head, matching your gaze. You kept pushing. “Lisa Braden. Your first love. And your last hit single, it was written about her.”

His jaw clenches as the anger in him builds before sadness hits him instead. “Record sold a hundred million copies.” He mumbles, before brings the now empty bottle to his lip. He’d sipped through it all during your talk and his eyes focused on it instead of you.

“And that record was released about eight years ago. Some people say you’ve sold out since then.” Dean growled in anger. It caught you off guard and you had to fight back the natural instinct to whine, submit to his anger and shut up. You find a way to suppress it.

“I’ve sold out, alright; every seat, every stadium I ever played.” Behind the anger, his previous untold sadness still lingered. You felt desperate to be real with him. Nothing he’d said to you so far has been true.

“And yet, creatively you’ve come to a stand still. You’ve been in and out of the studio for the past two years? And no results. Nothing.”

The two of you locked in a harsh gaze as you wondered what his eyes looked like. What color they were, what emotion he’s truly feeling behind all the makeup, leather and tattoos. You had grown to genuinely enjoy the man’s early music. A part of you could feel something you had never felt when listening to other bands music. You desperately wished that Dean would stop acting so surface deep.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and set the bottle on the table. After a glance at his watch, he stood up. “Time’s up.”

“You know, you’re not so special. You’re just a lonely man with a lot of regrets.” You fired back. Dean, instead of replying, reached down to the recorder on the table and pressed the Stop recording button.

“I said time.” Dean sighed as he moved away from you and over to the bar. Huffing in frustration, you began to pack up your things, sliding the notebook and pen into the bag. You stared at the tape recorder for a second before standing up and pressing the record button.

“Final question. What happens when you realize you can’t get rid of Dean Winchester?” He stilled for a moment, back to you, before turning around and narrowing his eyes at you.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be me.” A calloused hand came up to his face and rubbed at his jaw. You stepped purposefully towards him.

“Well now’s your chance to tell me. What’s it like to be /the/ Dean Winchester.” Finally, as if the words resonated with him, Dean slid his sunglasses off to reveal deep forest green eyes. They’re weary and older but a hint of playfulness was still in them. A determined look filled them too, as he stepped in front of you and crooked his finger.

“I’ll show you.” He leaned in to whisper, his beard scratching along your jaw. The small pain made you jump a bit and he stepped back and motioned towards his security guards. Each man took one of your arms and carried you out to the stage where he would be performing later that night. It seemed the Technicians needed Dean for a mic check.

You are forcibly plopped into a seat near the edge. It irked you that you’d been manhandled, but if Dean was willing to talk about himself truthfully, then you were there to listen. He stepped up on the stage and narrowed his eyes as he began to sing.

“It’s all the same, only the names will change. Everyday, it seems we’re wastin’ away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home.” You recognized the song. One that Dean had always been fond of and had even recorded a cover for one of their more recent albums. “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.”

Even though Dean was looking at you, one of the omegas from the green room moved to the stage and began to touch across his chest, even going so far as to kiss along his chest. Soon a second and third one joined in. One of the male omegas dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of Dean’s leather clad thighs.

“Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it’s not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day. By the bottle that you drink, and times when you’re all alone all you do is think.” Dean grabbed a bottle of scotch from the floor of the stage and took a shot of whatever was in it. He grinned as one of the girls tugged him by his belt over to her instead.

“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.” Four pairs of hands yanked off Dean’s jacket, revealing his torso completely to you. A surprised gasp left your lips as he turned around- only to reveal more of his tattoos. Shit. You groaned as you let your mind wander for a split second, imagining yourself on your knees for him, dragging your tongue along the pattern of each and every one of his tattoos.

You brought your thoughts back though, knowing you had to stay focused. No matter how desperately your omega side wanted to give in and let him really show you what it’s like to be a cowboy.

“I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back.I play for keeps ‘cause I might not make it back. I been everywhere, still, I’m standing tall. I’ve seen a million faces, and I’ve rocked them all.” Dean finally seemed to get lost in the song. His eyes were wide as he picked up his guitar and strummed the lead guitar portion of the song. He seemed to have transported his mind somewhere else. He no longer looked in your direction, but at an undetermined spot in the distance, like he was imagining a sea of people there watching him.

In that moment, he’s relaxed. Despite the sweat gathering on his body, he seemed completely calm. Once more, you could practically feel the energy from him, but in your own skin. Pain hit you deep in your core, followed by a unmistakable sense of longing.

“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive. I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side. I’m wanted dead or alive, and I ride, dead or alive. I still drive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive.” But then, just as Dean’s concentration and beautiful form is created. It’s broken by something. He’s snapped out of it and looked around as the song finished. He swallowed thickly and set down the guitar.

Dean stepped down and headed towards you once again. “Does that answer your question?” He asked and headed off, shouldering his jacket back onto his body. The security guards picked you up once more and dragged you into the green room again. You managed to shove them off and follow behind Dean on your own, feet stomping loudly as you did.

Once there, you found Dean back on the couch, beer in hand. Only this time, Crowley was there. He raised his hand and frowned when he sees how pissed off you are. “A great interview, love. Hope you got everything.”

You ignored him , stepping up right in front of Dean, anger building inside you. Where was the passion that he had on stage? Dean was nothing more than a blob of sex, drugs, and booze now. He was lifeless, dull. No wonder his albums stunk. None of his albums in recent years had come anything close to the level of passion that you had seen on that stage.

“You’re not cowboy. You’re a man child, stuck in a rut.” Dean only laughed and closed his eyes, He tipped his head back.

“Love it when you talk dirty.” Crowley stepped towards you, not liking the comments you were hurling at his star.

“You know Dean, you were great, but whatever made you that way is gone.” You don’t even have the anger to yell at him. Instead you spoke with a broken whisper.

“That’s right, just give it to me.” You realized his sunglasses aren’t there to hide the emotions that he’s really feeling at the moment. He was vulnerable to you but he doesn’t hide. He knew you’re right too.

“Now you’re just another rocker asleep at the wheel, singing the same songs you wrote ten years ago.” Crowley let out a tense laugh as you spoke.

“Okay lady. Why don’t-” But you’re not about to start caring what some dick in a suit thought about you.

“And as long as you’ve got this manager keeping you on the road and doping you up with girls and booze and-and..” You point to the bar, where the omegas have come back and are huddled against it. They all smile over at Dean. “And million dollar record deals. He’s gonna keep you asleep and drive your career right off a cliff.”

As soon as you said it, you know you’ve gone too far. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve become personally invested now that you know what Dean used to perform like. Something inside of you needed it to come out, even if it meant having to bruise Dean and his manager’s ego.

“Alright, lined crossed. Let’s go.” Crowley reached forwards for your arm, but you force it out of his grip and snarl at the Beta.

“Don’t touch me.” Crowley only scoffs, but Dean looked to actually be listening to you now. No jokes, just listening. Maybe what you’d said was getting to him. “You used to write great music. Where are they now?” You plead with him for an answer. For something. This has become so much more than your editorial piece now. No, now it’s about you, asking Dean where he went. “Where’s the real Dean?”

“You know what? I’m gonna have to get your editor on the phone. You’re out of here.” Crowley pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. “Thomas Gallagher’s office please.”

“Get out.” Dean whispered. Your heart ached as he says that and you nodded as you backed away

“My feelings exactly. This interview is over.” With a snap of his fingers, the guards moved in and began to surround you. Dean raised a finger and moved it from you over to Crowley.

“Not her. You.” Dean’s eyes stayed locked with yours, a small squeak of happiness left your lips. It made a soft smirk fall on the rock stars lips. “Everyone but her.” He replied. A confused Crowley hangs up the phone and sighed as he left, along with the omegas, bartender, and guards. Once the door’s shut, you realized. You two are alone, more than you were comfortable with at the moment.

“You know, I think you have this sense of entitlement. Due to the fact that you’re a rock god.” It takes a second to register the fact that Dean has started to move towards you. Once he’s close enough to break your personal space bubble, you began to step back. “But it’s not real. It’s not…love.”

Dean shook his head. “It isn’t love.” He repeated. The two of you continued the dance, when Dean took one step forward, you took one step back.

“Off the record?” He breathed. Warmth from his words fanned across your face and your steps faltered before you regain yourself. You nodded yes, sparing a look down to his lips. “Sex,” he drawled the word out and you slipped down onto the couch after the back of your thighs hit against it. “And other people’s projections of what they want me to be.“

You clear your throat, having to scoot away as Dean began to slide down beside you. Heat made its way through your lower belly. He purposefully tried to get close to you and while your head screamed Don’t let him. He just wanted into your pants. Another part, the omega in you, said that Dean thought you were special. You understood him like no one else had. “Of what you want me to be.”

Every part of you ached to turn your head and look at him. You stole a glance, but forced yourself to turn away from Dean, having to further shift away from him on the couch.

“Sex. It keeps me from going out and getting the one thing that could save me.” Dean grinned as you once again half turn to face him, but will yourself to face forward. “But I can’t have that now. I’m a slave to rock and roll.” Again and again, Dean crawled towards you but again and again you slid away. “Like I said, I know me better than anyone, because I live in here and no one else can.”

It got you, the pain that Dean had. The anger was all because of the burden he was carrying. He once had someone to love but she left and then Dean was on his own. He didn’t know how to share himself with another person.

“I can.” You whispered and turned your head to face Dean. Eyes wide as he looked at you with a primal need you’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. It’s because he believed that. He needed that.

And yet, he’s slow and gentle as he leant forward and pressed your lips together. One hand moved up to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him. A soft sigh left your lips as you tried and pull back for a second, only to dive in deeper the moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. “Open for me Omega.” He growled into your lips and you answered back with a high and needy whine.

You do as he asked and you let your lips part in the kiss. His hand moved down and began to press you further into the couch. One of his hands moved up to your face to pull your glasses off. You decided to reach up and pull your hair out of the tight ponytail that you had it in.

Dean moved up to really look at you, a hand moving through your hair and fanned it out. “Is this really what you want, omega?” He asked as a hand moved up to squeeze at your breast. His large hands gripped onto you tightly and pulled at the soft flesh under his grasp. A soft breath fanned over your neck as he drug his lips across your skin.

You jumped at the way his beard brushed against the skin of your neck, you let out a desperate whine for more. “Dean.” You breathed his name out in pleasure and tried your best not to sound too desperate. A breathless chuckle left the man’s lips as he spread apart your thighs.

“You..you’re different, aren’t you Y/N?” Dean tilted his head and you’re a bit surprised he remembered your name. “You don’t expect something from me. Do you?” You shook your head at his question. Part of you wondered if he’s guessing what you want, his truth. You expect nothing, but honesty from him.

“I’ve been looking for you ‘mega.” Dean sat up on his knees and looked down at you. He shouldered off the jacket that hid those beautiful tattoo’s of his.

“I’ve been look for you, Alpha.” Heat begins to rise to your cheeks. Now tinged pink due to the fact that you’ve never called someone alpha before. It felt perfect. Dean’s eyes rolled back a bit and he let out a low growl.

“Say it again.” Dean placed his hand over your throat. He forced your head back to look him in the eyes. “Tell me what I am.” He demanded.

“My alpha.” You whined as he looked down at you with lust blown eyes. He looked down at his hand on your throat and pulled it away only to push up the pencil skirt you wore. The itchy fabric dragged along the smooth skin of your thighs. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on your panties, but you snapped your thighs shut.

You placed the tip of your index finger on Dean’s skin to draw a shudder from him. The touch shocked you and the both of you sat in silence as you traced the pattern of the pistol along Dean’s adonis line.

“Mmmm, you like them?” He questioned and brushed his thumb along your lower lip, pulling it down for a split second. Eagerly, you nod your head yes for him. It’s hard to deny the look Dean’s replicated. An eighties rock god was definitely befitting of Dean Winchester.

“I love them. Can I..?” You start to question, but you don’t even have to finish. Dean moved off the couch and stood on his feet in front of you. The Alpha’s right hand moved through your hair as he guided you forward, letting you do whatever you want.

You purse your lips and kissed his hip bone before you dragged your tongue over to where Deans tattoo was. You outlined the design with your tongue. Not wanting to leave the other one unattended, you moved over to the matching design and gave it the same amount of attention as the other one. You brought your hand up and started to unbuckle his belt. The leather pants he wore, pushed far enough down his body to get to his cock. It came as a bit of surprise as his cock sprung right into your face.

Dean didn’t order you to do anything. Once you pressed your mouth to the side of his cock, you could feel his grip tighten on your hair. Every time he let out a growl, your body reacted before you can. Slick began to collect inside your folds, but you pushed past it. Eager to please Dean and get him off.

A few gentle kisses and kitten licks have the Alpha’s cock hard and aching for the attention that you planned to give. “You ever suck a cock before sweetheart?” While it wasn’t your first, you wouldn’t say you were an expert. So, you gave him a tentative nod.

“Relax okay? You’ll get used to it.” Dean offered you a reassuring smile as he let you take the first part of his cock into your mouth. A few movements and you realized that his whole cock wasn’t going to fit inside your mouth, not like this anyway.

Dean bucks his hips into your mouth and the tip of his dick rams past your gag reflexes and makes your eyes widen. It burns your throat but you can handle it. So, you pull away, a small string of saliva connect dick and lips, how romantic.

“Use me Alpha. Wanna..” You struggle to catch your breath as you speak. “Wanna make you feel good.” It’s all he needs to hear as he really grips onto your hair with one hand, the other on the back of your head.

“Tap out if you gotta.” He whispered before he moved his cock back into your mouth. His dick slipped past every barrier and slipped into the back of your throat. It stung and you’re certain your throat will be sore tomorrow. Only when he sees you handle the depth he’s reaching does he pull out and slam your face against his pelvis. Your nose squished against his skin.

You didn’t notice it at first but you feel tears stream down your cheeks. Dean’s head is tipped back and his eyes closed, full lips parted in pleasure. Even though your face is being fucked, you realized that you enjoy the way Dean looked in this moment more than anything. The concentration that he had on stage is back and you love the way he looked in this moment.

Just as you think you can’t last much longer, Dean stilled, his cock completely buried in your mouth and comes. You don’t know if you should swallow or not. So you let instinct guide you as you swallow what he gave you. There’s a moment of silence as you lingered on the floor.

Dean stepped back and eased his cock back into his leather pants and guided you back up onto your feet. He tilted his head before he smashed your lips together in a bruising kiss. Teeth banged each other as he held onto you.

Once you feel the need for air, you pulled away and looked up at Dean, wondering what he’ll do next. “I..I think I’m ready to give you that story you were looking for.” He breathed out and pressed his forehead to yours.

Dean’s eyes opened up to gaze at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom in the bunker. Moments tick by and he turned his head to glance at the cheap clock on the opposite side of the room. It displayed the time- 3:16 am. 

~~~

Despite the time, Dean felt wide awake. He hissed as he tried to move around, feeling a sick pain/pleasure course from his cock. The seasoned Hunter was unbearably hard, to the point where it was a struggle to get out of his bed.

He’d had the dream the night before and last night when he’d woken up, Dean had to fight with himself to jack off to it. Sure, dreaming about getting sucked off was always nice, but the other stuff weirded him out. He didn’t understand what Alpha’s and Omega’s were, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. Everything worked a bit too much like a bad romance novel.

Now, he laid in bed and tried his best not to think about his dick or the way Y/N had the prettiest mouth he’d ever seen. Dean had wracked his brain, unable to figure out why he dreamt of this you in particular. Dean grabbed his laptop and looked up your name. Unable to find any in any database that matched your description, Dean set his laptop back down. 

Dean hesitated before he grabbed the laptop again. His eyes lingered on the search bar as he typed in Alpha and Omega. God. I’m already regretting this.


	3. Hate Me Till You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n and Sam didn’t ever fall in love as kids. Even with their mothers prodding. You always thought Sam was insufferable and you fought more than any two kids you knew. It was a easy place to be in Sams life, until you find out his hate is only surface deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my Tumblr too @blushingjared

Rain pounded against the window as you gazed towards the distance. The house next door was dark and lifeless at the moment. Your hand moved over the sheets covering your bed, slowly moving your body to lay down. Someone yelled downstairs, but you ignored it in favor of listening to the rain. There was always something beautiful to you about the way two separate drops of rain always seemed to come together. A vague memory of your days in chemistry popped into your head about how magnetic water was, but being the girl you were ,you tended to romanticize things. It was easier to imagine those two droplets were just meant to be.

The voices only grew louder the longer you ignored them. Loud, knocking footsteps sounding closer and closer to your room, all before a BANG! as the door to your room was forced open by your seething mother. Anger dripped off her words as the frown lines on her face creased harder. “Y/N Y/LN, what the hell are you doing up here? Don’t you want to try and see all those cute boys downstairs? All of the perfectly acceptable bachelors.”

Your head started to pound at the thought of being surrounded by a horde of knot hungry Alphas. No, thank you. “I was down there long enough to know that every single one of them were only after a mate.” Was it too much to ask for some fucking romance or at least a good pick up line? In all honesty, you knew that none of those guys down there wanted you. They were only here because your family was rich and your parents had an eligible daughter they needed to marry off to get more heirs.

Not a single one of them cared about your personality or what you had to offer.

“Don’t be delusional. Honey, come down and talk to some of the boys. Mary Winchester and her boys are here too.” Heat flared in your stomach, mixing with your anger like toothpaste and orange juice. It got your attention to say the least.

“Sam’s here?” Your voice betrayed you, coming out more breathless than intended.

“He is. Now put on your dress and come downstairs.” A knowing smirk curled on her painted lips before she turned her back to you and headed back down to the party.

“Shit.” Speaking of the dress, the thing was much too revealing and nothing like what you would wear normally. The blue, skintight dress shimmered and sparkled, making you wonder if the thing wasn’t really meant for a high schooler’s prom. It was all you had though and tonight you were going to knock Sam Winchester flat on his ass.

Sam Winchester and you did not get along. While you two had grown up together your entire life, it seemed neither of you could stand the other. Hell, you were neighbors, your mothers were practically attached at the hip. But neither of you could be in the same room together without throwing something at each other.

A smirk played at your lips as you pulled the dress over your head and slipped into the accompanying shoes. The upper hand was all yours and you could watch Sam struggle to play nice with you. You were counting down the minutes until Sam stormed off. With you trying your best to annoy him? Ten minutes tops.

You checked yourself in the mirror, adjusting your hair and making sure that every single detail was perfect. Sam would have nothing to tease you about. He might have had everyone else down stairs fooled with his puppy dog eyed, gentle alpha act but not you. You could see right through him and see he was just as flawed as everyone else.

Taking the first step out, you willed your breaths to stay calm as you made your way down the stairs and to the party. Soft but prominent classical music played underneath the sea of voices. Thankfully, the party’s true purpose wasn’t to find you a mate. It was your parents anniversary and as beautiful and kind as their love was, at the moment you felt it was a once in a lifetimes. No one looked at you like your father looked at your mother because you weren’t special.

Shaking your thoughts aside, you weaved your way through the high society party goers. Some of them unfortunately turned to look your way, but you ignored them. You were making a bee-line for the Winchesters. It was easy to do, seeing as there was a flock of giggling girls surrounding the eldest Winchester, his deep, rumbling voice cutting through all the others. If you hadn’t known exactly what Dean did with the omegas in the morning, you’d probably be head over heels for the guy as well.

It’d probably make Sam fly off the handle if he saw you two making out.

Sam’s head turned around, his hazel eyes landing on your form and something made his lips part, going speechless. You use that momentum and saunter over towards Sam, eyes trailing over his body like he was doing to you.

He cleaned up nicely, dark suit sat on top of Sam’s gigantic frame pretty well. Although you could tell those muscles underneath had to be straining under the tight shirt. It would be stupid of you to think that Sam didn’t have nice physical features as well.

“Heya Sammy. Having fun?” you asked, voice cutting through whatever trance he was in. His eyes closed, along with his mouth and he set his features in a harsh glare.

“Y/n.” The curtness of his reply got you. Sam knew exactly where he was too. He turned his attention to Dean as his older brother slapped him on the back.

“Hey sweetheart, always nice to see you.” Dean’s arm wrapped around his brother’s shoulder, a drunken smile playing on his lips. “You getting along with my baby brother?” He brought the glass up to his lips and sipped at the champagne glass. When a tray came by, he set it down only to grab a full glass.

“Oh Dean, don’t you know Sammy here hates my guts? Did he already beg to leave?” You added a wink, letting Sam know you had come down surely to torture him. Sam flinched as you said ‘Sammy’, no one but Dean got away with that, except for tonight. Sam had to play nice.

Dean snorted and stumbled towards you, now placing his arm against your shoulder. “Damn, princess. For as much as you hate each other, you sure do know each other real well.” Sam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, turning his head to the side and trying his best to ignore the way you two were talking about him.

“You know, I think Sammy’s got a crush on ya.” Dean whispered, lips brushing against your ear. The words went straight to your core. No way. It had to just be drunk Dean blabbering. Why were you thinking about this? Why the fuck were you even entertaining the idea that Dean was right?

You had to test this out and as fun as it’d be to use Dean, it’d be a bit too on the nose. Sam would figure it out.

“Hm. I’ll see you around Sam. Thanks for coming.” There was no room left for discussion as you turned and left, missing Sam’s reaction to the way you just left. You didn’t bother him or fuck with him. So Sam didn’t know what to do here.

Sam watched with intent as you moved through the room. As much as you preferred to be alone in your room and read, you still knew how to work a crowd. Years of Cotillion classes had prepared you for moments like these. All you had to do was fall back on instincts.

Cocky Alpha boys turned their attentions to you, the charm you laid on was thick. You acted like a brain dead damsel and they played right into your hand. Sam had his eyes on you the rest of the night, especially when you had trained your attention onto one guy in particular. Nick Angel, he was all bright eyes and smiles as you chatted him up. His hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

Sam’s eyes narrowed at the action and that was when you knew Sam had a thing for you. A small (big) part of you wanted him to be jealous. It would be the cherry on top to your relationship. All this while, this grown man never stopped acting like the little kid that pulled on the pigtails of the girl he liked.

You pulled away from Nick when you saw Sam leaving, heading to your father’s study. His eyes caught yours again and something close to pain flashed on his face before he closed the door. You followed behind, making your way towards the room as well. What was that look? Sam’s eyes had seemed cloudy and his frown looked more like he was holding back sounds of sadness.

Opening the door slowly, you moved yourself into the room fully and silently. Sam’s back was to you and he didn’t seem to notice you had come in. He was breathing pretty raggedly and when he turned around, you felt fear replace every other emotion inside you. His eyes glowed bright red and he looked ready to kill, when his sights became set on you, he clenched his jaw.

“Sammy?” You’re voice was weak as something primal in you made your body cave. Something magnetic wanted you to go to him. The rational side of your brain told you to back away from the ravenous alpha, but the unclaimed omega in you begged to be touched.

He snarled at the nickname and stepped closer to you, his voice was horribly raspy. Each breath Sam took was visible; his shoulders rose and fell each time. Of course doing so made his body seem even more massive than he already was. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.” He hissed and continued to step towards you. Every step, he looked at your face, waiting for you to make the move and leave.

You couldn’t, though.

Sam’s hand was gentle as it moved over your hair; his fingers then running through the strands. If you didn’t believe Dean then, you did now. His eyes had returned to their normal color but it didn’t make the feeling of Alpha that Sam’s demeanor was screaming to you any less.

“I want you.” Sam whispered. The Winchester’s finger curled into your hair, tugging your face right up to his. The force made you jerk forward and because of the height difference made your feet dangle. It hurt like hell and it was the only time you’d truly been scared of Sam. His nose lowered and he ran it along your neck. With Sam being so close, your senses were filled to the brim with nothing but Sam. Sam Sam Sam. It made your brain shut down, your heart rate speed up and most importantly, you were forcing your thighs together to keep the scent of your slick from reaching Sam.

From his expression, that didn’t seem to work. “Stop struggling omega, I can smell you.” His tongue dipped out and ran a stripe along your skin. The coolness of his tongue a sharp contrast from the heat of your own skin. “Let me satisfy you. None of those Alphas could handle you like I could.” He continued the motion, but added his free hand into the mix. He let his thumb brush over the zipper on the dress.

“Sam, we..cant.” You pant, even you didn’t believe that. “We hate each other.” Sam merely chuckled at that. His thumb and pointer finger grasping the zipper and pulled it down. “Sa-Sam.” You whined his name as he moved the straps off of your body.

“I don’t hate you Y/n and you know that. I was just never around a girl who didn’t grovel at my feet. You’re the only girl I want.” Sam whispered. “Don’t you feel the same?” He asked and let you go, the dress slipping down your body.

A blush spread across the both of your faces. The lingerie set you wore was meant more to not show up under the skin tight dress. Very little was left to the imagination, as you wore a thong and a push up bra. There was a cold breeze that flashed over your body, bringing your nipples to a point. Sam kept his eyes level to yours, respectful.

It was amazing to you, the way Sam was dominate and yet still respectful of you. You could have easily left but you didn’t want to. You wanted to be here.

Your eyes lingered on Sam but you realized you had been looking at your relationship all wrong. Yeah, Sam was the only one out there that didn’t act differently around you and you never changed who you were for him.

Somehow there had been a Jane Austen romance brewing between you two. Now here he was, asking to make you his.

How could you turn down those puppy dog eyes?

“Yeah Sam. I want you.” That seemed to be enough for him.

Sam pinned you against the door, fingers wrapping around both wrists as he lowered his mouth to yours. He smirked and stilled only inches apart from you. You whined, wanting to feel the alpha’s kiss. He let you keep on like that for a while but eventually Sam couldn’t hold off from teasing you.

He kissed you, and the inner twelve year old screamed in excitement. It wasn’t your first kiss but the few that you’d had were utter garbage compared to this. Sam was experienced and knew how to make each touch or caress turn you into a whimpering mess. “Please Sam, more.”

A smile grew on Sams face as you begged him. “Anything you want, princess.” He manhandled you and set you down on your father’s desk. Sam went back and locked the door from any wandering party goers. His hand moved from your inner thigh to your core, his thick fingers pressing against you.

His lip curled into a snarl as he brought his face down to your knees. Sam’s eyes lingered on your bare skin, pushing your thighs apart. The room was silent as Sam buried his face there and started to kiss at the smooth and silky skin in front of his face.

“Sam,” You whined, voice coming out weak and desperate. Something was stirring in you, but all you wanted was Sam, completely. Your body didn’t feel like your own as Sam tugged your thong to the side. Sam’s head lowered and nuzzled his way into your folds wordlessly.

Nothing had felt as good as Sam Winchester between your thighs. A few expert licks and sucks had you humming like a girl who figured out what her clit did. Your body was crying for more, the slick that was slipping out of your cunt like water on glass. Over and over. Sam kept his head buried between your thighs. Almost as if he was worshipping you, or apologizing for the years of anger between the two of you.

At some point in one of your orgasms, you begged him to fuck you. Good and proper, like an omega in heat. Sam seemed willing enough as he pulled back from your slit and started to undress to your level. “Cmon Alpha. Fill me up.”

That was all Sam needed to turn you around and force you onto your stomach. He grabbed a fist-full of your hair and tugged your head back. Sam’s cock brushed along the outside of your slit. His head burying into your neck. “You were purposefully fucking with me all night. Touching Dean, touching Nick. All the wrong men. I watched you, I know you haven’t fucked anyone. Which means your pussy is going to be mine and mine alone.”

The words might have just been talk but the way Sam made you feel like you were always going to be his made you weak in the damn knees. Sam didn’t need to worry about it being too tight to get into you. Your body was more than prepped. His hands dropped to your waist as he fucked you over and over onto his cock, He let you enjoy the feeling of it. He wanted you to be ruined for any man, should you think he couldn’t be enough. He watched as you came for what felt like the hundredth time.

You didn’t mind Sam ruining you; it seems he was going to be hard to get off your mind.

~~~

Sam’s nose crinkled slightly as he woke up to the alarm on his phone. One of his hands raised to his face as he rubbed at his eyes. He turned the alarm off before he got out of bed and headed to the shower. His forehead pressed against the cold tile as he let the cold water rush over him.

His thoughts lingered on his dream. Pushing aside from how real it felt and the intense hard on he’d gotten once he’d woken up. Sam also longed for the life this /other/ version of himself. He could count on his fingers the amount of times he’d dreamt like this. Of himself in another life, a happier one. 

What made him confused though was that even then Sam dreamed of Madison or Amelia. Jessica on a particularly rough night. Sam wasn’t sure where he’d seen you before. He must have, otherwise, how would he have known who you were otherwise? Y/N Y/LN…He’d have to find you.


	4. Maybe Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being friends with someone like Castiel is hard, pretending that you only want to be friends with him is even harder. Especially now that he’s single again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s kids are named West and Maison cause I love them and he works at Random Acts in the fic. This was originally a Misha x Reader series but it was causing problems for my over all fanfic this is in. So if you see “Misha” instead of Cas, lemme know. Beta'd by me (Tumblr- @blushingjared)

“Castiel?” You called out, boots stomping onto the rug by the door. Snow had coated you entirely, it had been a miracle that you had made it Castiel’s house in the first place. “Castiel? Anybody home?” No one answered you, forcing you to yell louder. “Castiel Novak!”

Instead of Castiel, you got West, the boy running past you naked into the play room. Followed behind by the man you’d been trying to get the attention of. “Hey Y/n!” Both of them called out as they ran past you. “Be with you in a minute!” Castiel cried as he ran after his son.

You laughed softly as you stripped off your jacket and scarf, toeing off your boots and setting them all to the side. Living in Washington required the heavy layers constantly during the winter months. Without them, you’d be left frozen to the bone and soaking wet most days.

Castiel. It had never been just a normal friendship with him.

Castiel had gone to college with you years ago. You’d been pretty good friends despite being in different majors. While he had been called to the Business program, you had been called to the Education department. And where you had been called to love him, Castiel had been called to Amelia.

Amelia had been in the Business program with Castiel and while you truly did want him to be happy, Amelia just wasn’t who you saw him getting with. Maybe a part, okay a large part, of you had thought he would have gotten together with you. That you would be the one in the white dress walking down the isle.

You were fine though. You promised yourself that you would bury those feelings because one thing you promised to never do was ruin a marriage. A part of you wished you had grown the balls to admit what you felt for him before he’d fallen in love with someone else.

It didn’t matter though, Castiel was your Best Friend and you would do absolutely anything for him. You were there for the wedding, for West’s birth and for Maison’s, and for the big move he took out to Washington for Castiel’s not for profit company that he’d started. Castiel even helped you move across the country just to stay close to him.

Watching him be happy with a family of his own was the only thing that had helped you move on. It was easier after that.

Boyfriends would come and go through out your life but there wasn’t one that would stick. None of them seemed to be all that comfortable with the fact that your best friend had been a man and Castiel never fully approved of any of them.

Things had changed in recent years though, Amelia had been home less often. Which prompted Castiel to ask you to be even more involved in his children’s lives. Taking care of them while Castiel “helped saved the world” as West would put it.

You never would have expected that Amelia had been away from her family because she’d been seeing another man. Castiel would never express to you just how hurt he had been the day he found our. It just wasn’t his style; he wasn’t one to burden people with his own emotions.

Despite Amelia’s infidelity, he begged her to stay, for their two children, for the love that he felt they still had. She didn’t care though, she’d left and you were there to pick up the pieces of your best friends heart.

The one good thing about it all was that West and Maison had been too young to really understand everything that had been going on. Since then, you spent almost everyday at their house taking care of the kids (and Cas when he would let you).

Castiel finally walked back into the foyer, bringing you out of your thoughts. West now dressed in pajama’s and on his father’s shoulders. “Glad to see you could make it to mystery dinner night.” He smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. A warmth blossomed through you and made its way to your cheeks. Thank god they were already red from the coldness of outside and would be unnoticeable.

“Yeah. It’s always better with you Y/n.” West cheered and reached down mess with his fathers ears. Maison made her way into the room as well and attached herself to your legs. “Y/n!” She cried and looked up at you.

“I sure am hungry. What about you guys?” You beam at the each of them and take noble into the kitchen with Maison still on your leg as you all walk into the kitchen to the right. Overflowing bags of food sit atop the counters; West ushers you and his father over to the kitchen table.

“Sittttttttttttt.” He groans, frowning as he pulls out both chairs and guides you into the seat. Castiel on the other hand, decides to use some of his strength to push back on West. “Daaaaaaaaaaadddddddd.” West whines as Castiel smiles down at his son.

“What? C’mon, let us help you. Why should you two get all the fun?” Castiel looks to you, but you shake your head and raise your hands up, not wanting to associate with that statement.

“Oh no, you’re on your own with that one Cas. Mystery Dinner isn’t fun when we help.” You grin at him and Castiel gives up and plops himself into the chair.

“Thanks Mom!” West grins and runs away, not knowing what he’s really said. Your eyes widened a bit as he calls you his…Mom. Castiel and you share a look between each other. It was hard to hear, they thought that you were their mom. You knew he’d been trying to get his kids to stop calling you that. It didn’t seem to matter. You were there, always, Amelia was not. It was totally normal for them to assume you were their mom.

“Y/N, you know-“ Castiel started but you shook your head slightly, not wanting to hear about it. By now, you’d learned to accept it and let West and Maison call you what was only natural to them.

“So, Cas? How’s Random Acts?” The sudden change of topic was needed. Castiel would have continued to try and pester you about what was going on. “I know you’re getting ready to go to LA for some publicity work.”

Castiel smiled weakly and looked into your eyes and titled his head. “Yeah. You know, my offer still stands. You should come with us.”

“You know I can’t leave my job, my students need me. They’re not going to be happy that I just, left.” Castiel’s face fell for a moment before going back to that easy going smile you loved.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just the first trip with the kids without Amelia. It’ll be hard doing it alone. They’ll miss you like crazy.” Castiel leaned forwards, moving ever so closer towards you.

“They’ll be fine. You can just call me if they ever wanna talk.” Your eyes landed on Castiel’s hand as he reached forward to grab onto your own. He tipped your head up, making you unable to look away from him.

“I’ll miss you.” Castiel breathed. Unknowingly, the two of you had begun to lean forwards, getting closer and closer to one another.

“Cas, what about..” Words escaped you as the pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek.

“Y/N.” Castiel breathed your name out and just as he was about to go in all the way, Maison and West’s voice brought you back.

“Oops..” The two of them said in unison. West must have dropped something because a loud clatter sounded behind the kitchen island.You stood up and giggled as spaghetti sauce covered the two of them. A large pot lying on the side of the floor. It was hard to hold back a laugh as the two of them had become covered in sauce. Both of your hands lifted up to your mouth and you struggled not to laugh.

“Oh no..” You giggled and bit at your lower lip. Castiel made his way over and sighed weakly as he saw them. Sitting down in the tomato sauce, Maison giggled as she laid down and made “tomato sauce angels”. Your eyes widened and you did your best to stop her as West soon followed his sister.

“Cmon Mom! Join us.” While a pain of guilt hit your chest, you let yourself be dragged down by them and onto the floor. Unable to stop his smile, Castiel shakes his head and smirks as he smears some of the sauce over your face.

You gape at him before narrowing your eyes and smearing sauce over his shirt. “I’ve been hit!” He cries and flops onto the floor and both kids crawl onto their father and sit on him. He releases a pained ‘oof’ as they all laugh.

An uncontrollable surge of sadness courses through you. It’s hard to stop as tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. You feel so out of place in this moment. Every time the kids call you mom, the moment you’d had with Castiel, the way this all felt like you’d always been their family. You weren’t their mom and you weren’t with Castiel.

When Castiel finally noticed how upset you looked, he gently nudged his children off of him and stood up. Even covered in tomato sauce, he still looked as gorgeous as ever. “Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?” He questioned, taking a tentative step towards you.

No. No I’m fucking not.

Clearing your throat you said something to the affect of, “I need a minute.” And headed off to the bathroom closest to you. Castiel followed behind you and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. He would jiggle it a couple times in between knocking and begging you to open the door. Nothing worked though. At some point, he gave up and you realized that you’d become exhausted from crying and fell asleep.

Once you woke up, you felt the stickiness clinging to your body and decided a shower was certainly needed. After you finished, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights had been turned off and the house had become eerily quiet. Looking back down at your phone, you sighed as you saw you’d been asleep for a good three hours.

“Shit.” It was too late to drive home and most of your body was still clinging to sleep. You moved to the steps but before you could really get anywhere, Castiel’s voice called through the living room.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

Part of you knew that it was a bad idea to go back and talk to him, but you also couldn’t avoid him forever. So, the rational part of your brain won and you headed to him. Sitting on the couch, he had his arm draped over the side of it; an open beer in his other hand.

He gave you a lop sided smile, easing you instantly. Sliding to the edge, he patted his hand against the couch, silently asking you to join him. He’d been watching something, but you couldn’t tell what since the credits were rolling.

“Cmon. Sit down.” Castiel looks up at you, those bright baby blue’s calling out to you. You can’t bring yourself to come closer, afraid that by mere proximity you might accomplish something stupid. Like admit your feelings for him.

Of course, you sitting beside him wasn’t the point. He stood up and began to walk towards you. Fear once again coursed through you, making you step back. Castiel followed you and the two of you continued this dance. While he moved closer, you stepped back. It was too late for you to notice he’d been purposefully backing you into a corner.

“What happened tonight? Why did you freak out?” He asked as your back collided against the wall. Your eyes squeezed shut tightly as you hoped to simply disappear.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I really just want to borrow your couch and sle-“ Soon Castiel began to lean forwards, his head tilting downwards. Making sure his lips were hovering right over yours.

“Y/N. I don’t wanna fight it. I don’t want to have to worry about ruining our friendship because we won’t work. I already know we will.” He looked down at your lips and they formed a silent ‘o’ as he did. “All these years…I’m tired of dancing around what we feel towards each other.”

And then, he kissed you. Castiel pushed in the rest of the way and brought his lips to yours. Once your eyes closed, his hand moved up and cupped the back of your head. He cradled you, holding you as if you were some precious thing.

“I love you.” It wasn’t on purpose but the two of you had pulled away in unison, only to say it to each other at the same moment. The words lingered, surrounding you two and fueled the passion that quickly sparked between you.

While his kiss was gentle at first, it didn’t stay that way. His hands slid down and raised them over your head, pressing you into the wall. After he was satisfied you couldn’t pull out of his grip, his lips kissed along your cheek and jaw. Moving behind your ear to whisper, “Did you mean it?’

Soft fingers move up under your t-shirt, skimming over the smooth skin he knew was hidden underneath. “Yes.” You sigh, aching to feel more than just feather light touches. “I love you Castiel Novak.” A gasp escapes you as he dips his hand below the waistline of your pants.

“Good..” He growls and flips you around, pressing your front end against the wall as your cheek smooshes against it too. The position wasn’t the most comfortable but it wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. Not when Castiel was pushing your sweats down to the floor.

You arched your back slightly and pressed your ass out to him. God, you were aching for him to touch you. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you baby girl.” Head tipping back to rest on his shoulder, his lips dragged along your collarbone. Soft and thick fingers dug into the fabric of your underwear.

He dug the tips of his fingertips into the cotton material of your store bought panties. “O-Oh..” Castiel dragged a moan of pleasure from you as he found your clit. With a sickening desire, he made sure to abuse the nub of pleasure, constantly sending you reeling back from the pleasure.

Realizing this only required one hand, Castiel pushed his free one underneath the t-shirt. He moaned softly as he squeezed at your chest. Unable to control himself, his hips pressed against yours. His erection sliding between your cheeks. “Go-god, Cas. Please. J-just fuck me.”

All the grinding was making you anxious and eager to feel him inside you. He was holding back though and he didn’t grant your request. Sliding the material of your underwear to the side, he slid a digit through the collecting slick between your folds. Heavy pants and small whimpers fell from your mouth as you continued to beg for more, all of him but still, Castiel continued to tease.

After you had become too loud, he forced the hand that had been on your chest over your mouth to cover your noises. Drool collected and small drips of saliva from your mouth fell through the cracks of his fingers. “Ugh..” You swooned as he finally breeched a finger past your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him do it, but somehow Castiel had taken off his own sweats.

Wetness from where pre-cum had leaked onto his boxers rubbed along the back of your thighs. “Want to do it right…not like this.” He breathed, although you didn’t understand what he meant. The finger that was inside you curled as it moved in and out at a slow and dragging pace. If you’d been able to push against him for more you would have.

A second finger joined the first inside your heat, slick dripping down your thigh and onto his hand. It was too much, you were close to cuming from practically nothing. Once he added the heel of his palm to mash against your clit, you were gone, tumbling over the edge and crying out into the palm he had against your mouth.

You gasped as you felt Castiel push his boxers off his waist and slide his cock freely between the flesh of your cheeks. Like yourself, he hadn’t needed much before he reached his own release. Coating your back with cum, you sagged into his arms. It was a miracle that you were still standing honestly.

As soon as you’d got your breath, you turned to look up at Castiel. He smiled back down at you and leaned forwards to press another sweet kiss to your lips. It was hard to contain the smile that the kiss brought to your lips.

“As much as I wanted to give in to you. You deserve a special first time with me.” You snorted at his arrogance, but knew he was really trying to be sweet. Waiting for the right time was something you’d been doing for awhile. “Are you tired?” He asked and helped slide your clothes back onto your body.

“You are pretty exhausting to be around.” Though you were partially joking, you were exhausted once again. As soon as you told him, he was lifting you up off your feet and bringing you upstairs bridal style

“I know. I’ll try to keep my massive ego it to a minimum though.” He dropped you onto the master bed gently. The lights cut off and it was just the two of you alone and in his bed. You knew when you woke up, that he’d still be there. This wasn’t just one great wet dream.

Castiel had fallen for you and he’d want you just as badly as you had for all these years.

Castiel stumbled and dropped to the floor as the dream passed over him. Despite the fact that angels don’t sleep, he laid on the floor for almost an hour before the dream seemed to end. His eyes lingered on the ceiling for a moment before the angel gained his composure and was able to stand back up.

Confusion and lust clouded his thoughts and made it harder to focus on the problem at hand. Who was that girl? Why did she appear in a dream to him. Part of Castiel had begun to wish that he had been able to stay inside the dream with the girl. A sense of belonging had overwhelmed him, more so than anything else he’d felt before.

Shame colored his face, a human emotion he hadn’t felt since years before as a full blown human. Perhaps, he was weaker now without heaven, becoming susceptible to human thoughts. He hoped it would pass.


	5. Fake It Till You Make It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean shows up to get information on a case, things start to get further out of control for your perfect world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by @focusonspn and @moonlitskinwalker (Tumblr is @blushingjared)

Work today had been hell. Nothing you baked was coming out right. Even when you followed every recipe to the exact detail, it seemed that today was not your day. In fact, the whole weekend had been particularly bad. You pushed a stray hair out of your face and did your best to stock up the front of the bakery with the best looking items from your stockpile of goods.

Your parents had cut back your hours once again, worried that your time at the shop were cutting into your studies. There had been multiple occasions where you had attempted to tell your parents that your classes weren’t the least bit strenuous. The shop needed as much help as possible. It seemed a bit ridiculous but your parents only wanted the best for you.

While most 19 year olds wanted to move out of their parents house the first chance they got, you stuck around. The small town you grew up in for your entire life was home; it felt wrong to leave. So you took a couple community classes and worked in your parents bakery. Most people wouldn’t have felt fulfilled, but you did.

To top it all off, your boyfriend had called you to cancel your date that you’d been planning all week for. An amazing romantic dinner at both of your favorite restaurant. Matthew had apologized profusely and promised that tomorrow he would be free. Tonight he was just busy at the office.

You were sure that, someday when you were both secure, you and Matt would get married, settle down and have a couple of kids when the both of you were more secure and then have a couple kids. Nothing was wrong with never wanting to leave the place you called home. You knew almost everyone's name.

You had no wishes to live an extraordinary life.

The bell rang above the door, where your Family’s name was written beautifully, singling that someone had come into your store and it pulled you out of your thoughts. A plastic smile graced your lips as you lifted yourself up and faced the customer. Your hands instinctively dropped down to your apron to brush some of the flour off. Something irritated your face and it felt a bit like flour or icing, but you ignored it. Although, nothing could have prepared you for the man that was about to enter your shop.

“Hi Miss sorry to bother you.” The man had a gorgeous smile that he eagerly flashed to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Are the owners around? I’ve got a few questions for them.” He reached into the interior pocket of his trench coat, presenting his FBI Badge.

Words escaped you for the longest time, instead, trying to comprehend what a beautiful man like him was doing as an FBI agent. Surely, he could have been a model or some kind of actor. His bright green eyes shone beautifully in the evening sun, the freckles becoming prominent on his golden skin. Your inner thoughts were becoming something from a cheesy romance novel, but this “Dean”, as his badge listed, looked like a man fresh off the cover of one.

After no response from you, Dean cleared his throat to try and get your attention once more. “Miss? Are you ok?” He tilted his head in worry and the repeated question got to you.

“Oh, um, yes. I’m fine, thank you. Sorry.” You returned his gentle smile and decided to step out from behind the counter. You pulled the dirty apron off of your body and set it against the top of the counter. “The owners aren’t here right now. They’re at home. I can give you their phone number though.” God, you felt so ashamed for objectifying the poor man.

Dean tilted that pretty head of his in confusion. “They let a teenager run the store?”

While technically true, the statement still irked you. Being young doesn’t equal being childish. Your head cocked to the side as your hand went to your hip. “I’m 19, sir. Twenty in a couple months. I am an adult.”

Dean rolled his eyes at your statement and you inwardly regretted it realising it sounded like something an angry teen would say. It was too late to take it back now.

“Good on you, kid, but I still need to talk to them. You don't have a home address at all?” Dean slipped his hands into his pockets as he tried his best not to sound annoyed. Information was still needed from you, but kids tended to prey on anything showing weakness. Like exhaustion.

“Yeah. I’m heading there in an hour to bring the cash to them. Do you think you could wait that long?” Giving the address would have been easy, but you were getting him back for calling you a kid.

“Fuck me.” Dean sighed, more to himself than to you, and tipped his head back before taking a deep breath. “Can’t you just write it down or something? I don’t have time to wait.”

“I don’t know you. You could be a murderer for all I know.” It was a joke in all honesty, but it must have touched on something personal because he turned his head to you, his forehead creased in confusion before you clarified. “I just mean, I’d rather play it safe and go with you ok? I’m headed up there anyways.” 

“Yeah, fine.” Something beeped, prompting Dean to pull his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be back, ok?” He asked even though he didn’t stay for your answer as he walked out of the shop.

“Okay..” You wondered if some of your food would cheer him up, make him less grumpy. He was cute when he was grumpy though.

Clicking the green answer button on his phone, Dean lifted the thing up to his ear. The voice of his younger brother came through. “What’s going on Sammy?” Dean’s frown stayed plastered on his face. When he thought you’d turned away, he turned himself and looked back inside to watch you work for a moment. “Are we digging any info up on this Matt, guy?”

Sam clenched his jaw before huffing out, “We are not doing any digging. I’m the one going to find the insane witch. All you have to do is find his girlfriend.” Dean shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, this kid at the shop her parents own is giving me a hard time. She’d only take me to Y/N’s parents if she went with me. Said I could be a murderer.” Dean paused as he scratched his head. “What does she know anyways?”

Something tapped against the glass and it caught Dean off guard just as Sam was saying something. Dean dropped his phone in surprise and turned around, pleasantly surprised to find you standing in front of the large glass window with a slice of pie on a plate.

You smiled, pointing down to it and then to Dean. “Damn,” he groaned as he looked from it and then back to you. He held up a single finger to indicate he needed a minute. If it wasn’t for Sam’s currently annoying voice calling out through the speaker, he’d have gone inside.

“Damn it Dean, just hang up if you’re gonna ignore me. God..” Before Dean could get a word out, the call ended just as Dean picked the phone up from the sidewalk. He groaned, promising to call Sam back later and decided to go in and get the pie he’d been promised.

You sat across from the slice at one of the small tables off to the sides. Dean liked how the bakery looked like one from the fifties. Something you’d only see in Hallmark movies and Disney parks. “I wanted to apologize for calling you a murderer. I shouldn’t have.” A small blush formed on your cheeks as you ducked your head.

It reminded Dean of a toddler that stole a cookie from the jar but couldn’t lie about it when asked what they’d done. An astounding amount of innocence radiated off of you and it made Dean feel guilty for checking you out. Well, almost guilty.

“Don’t worry kid. You’re right to not trust strangers anyways.” Taking the fork from the table, Dean started to dig in to what looked like cherry pie. It was pretty fucking good. Not the best, but up there. You liked the way he smiled as he ate your pie, even if today hadn’t been your best baking day. At least he enjoyed it.

“So, what’s an FBI agent doing here? Some super secret spy mission?” Both elbows rested on the table, your chin resting in the palms of your hands. “I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a death in the town that wasn’t from natural causes. I can’t imagine what you’d be looking for.”

Dean stayed suspiciously quiet as he chewed on the dessert, only shrugging at your question. “Can’t talk about it, sorry sweetheart.” He hadn’t bothered to swallow his food and so his teeth were coated in cherry pie filling. It looked ridiculous on him, only adding to the growing pile of reasons you couldn’t believe that he was an FBI agent.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a good ten minutes before a couple in their mid-thirties walked in. You left Dean alone to go serve them the last slices of cheesecake and make a fresh pot of coffee. Patrons would come in and out, never more than a couple at a time though and once the clock struck 10 pm you turned the sign to closed and started the routine on locking up. You checked the back and locked up, cleaned a few counters and then grabbed the cash and placed it into the lock box.

Just as you went to let Dean know you’d finished up, Matt’s name flashed on your phone. He was calling you, confusion made your brows furrow. You answered none the less.

“Hey babe. What’s up?” You smiled as he called you that, Matt’s voice calmed you.

“Not much. How’s work going?” Dean stood up and walked towards you. He frowned as he saw that you were on the phone.

“I just wanted to check in. I wanna see you so bad..” He trailed off. His voice sounded out of breath and you could hear…was Matt running?

“Matt? You ok? It sounds like you’re running-“

“Get back here Matt! Let her go!” A gruff voice called out. The phone call ended before you had a chance to respond.

“Alright. Can we go now?” Dean asked, he tilted his head at you. Motioning towards the door.

“Yup!” Your voice hid any bit of confusion that you had in regards to your boyfriend’s phone call. The door of the bakery being held open for you as the two of you walked down main street, gasping as Dean grabbed your arm and pulled you toward an older black muscle car. “What’re you doing, Dean?”

“I’m driving us. Got a problem with that?” You didn’t, you just didn’t like the way he had manhandled you in the process. Eyes wide and lips parted, he ignored the cute look of surprise you gave him. Dean grinned as you slid into the car, glad he didn’t have to argue with you about it.

80’s rock music that only your father listened to played through the cars speakers. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he hummed in tune with the music. Every so often you would give him directions to your house, well “your bosses’ house” but he hadn’t bothered to even ask your name yet.

Dean’s head turned to face you, “Can I ask you something?” He watched as you turned your head to face the older man. “You know anybody in town named Matthew Green? They live here in town?”

Why was he asking about Matt? What did the FBI want with your Boyfriend?

“Not that I know of.” The answer hung in the air as silence once again fell between you two. You were suspicious of why Dean would be asking about Matt? What could Matt have possibly done? Not long after, Dean felt into his comfort zone by humming with the music.

Your house appeared just beyond the horizon, you could already see your mother sitting on the porch swing, working through whatever book her book club was currently reading. The light from the kitchen shone through the window, your father’s shadow moving around, likely cooking up dinner.

Dean pulled into the driveway and cut the engine off, you stepped out to walk ahead of Dean to greet your mom. Your mother’s lips pursed in question as you sat down with her. “Who’d you get a ride from, Y/N? A new friend?” A blush crept up onto your entire face and you did your best to hide it as Dean made his way to the porch. Turning your head you walked towards him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, don’t be rude. Introduce your new friend.” Shock coated Dean’s features, Jesus Christ.

“Y/N?” He repeated your name. It took all you had in you not to ask him to say your name again. Never before had your name sounded so good coming from someone’s mouth. “You didn’t tell me your name was Y/N.” Anger punched through him and into you. You didn’t understand.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t ask what my name was either.” The two of you stared at each other but before Dean could fire back your father popped his head out the kitchen window. “Y/N? Is your new friend staying for dinner?”

Whatever answer you would have given didn’t matter because your mom answered for you. “Course he is, you two go wash up.” Dean simply gave you and your family a tense smile before heading into the house behind you.

“Y/N. I really need to talk to you alone.” He implored you. Without much warning, he pushed the two of you into the small bathroom of your house. Your upstairs brain told your downstairs brain to shut up and realize that Dean was most likely 3 times your size and could easily over power you any time he wanted. His hand came out to rest against the edge of the sink. “I know..I know this is going to sound nuts but you’ve got to listen to me. That Matthew Green I asked you about? Well, he’s..he’s coming after you.”

Dean’s words made you laugh more than anything. You shook your head and leaned against the door. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Laughter was bubbling up inside your throat but you did your best to suppress it.

Dean knew you weren’t taking him seriously, so he let his eyes narrow and his jaw set as he answered you. “He created this town, he created a fake family for you, he created this picture perfect place for you.”

“Why is the FBI investigating this anyways?”

“I’m not actually apart of the FBI, Y/N. Me and my brother help people. People like you, people in danger.”

“I’m not in danger. Matt’s my boyfriend ok! He’s a great guy. I’m sorry but I think you should go.” Pain shot up your wrist as Dean grabbed onto it, hard.

“How long have you two been dating?” You rolled your eyes and went to answer. The words six months died on your lips as Dean let go.

“Six months? Really? That’s an awfully long time for someone your age to be in a relationship.” Your eyes shifted around the room.

“He’s older than me, has a full time job…” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“And your first date?”

“Well, it went terribly. He was rude and inconsiderate and I wasn’t going to have a second date but he called me and,” your memories feel fuzzy as you thought back on what happened just six months ago. You could only remember that first date and then everything felt fuzzy. Right up until Dean walked into the store.

“And what Y/N? Can’t remember? Feels like a dream?”

Sure he had lied to you about being FBI (you totally called that though), but something about what he said made you believe him. The town…it didn’t sit with you. You shook your head because of course the relationship was real, your parents were totally real and so was your town. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why..why would he do something like that? I’m nothing special. Besides! If this isn’t real how are you here?”

Dean rubbed over his jaw as he replied honestly. “I know how to get into dreams. It’s a special drink that allows us to share dreams. Now look, this whole fake dreamland is nice and all sweetheart, but I need you to come with me. ‘Cause that’s all this is, the fantasy of some witch.”

A soft knocking on the door interrupted you. “Y/N? What’s taking so long? Are you gonna come out now?” Your mother’s soft voice penetrating through the door. “Wouldn’t wanna eat dinner cold..”

“Mom just give me a minute.” Your voice shook as you answered her. Her voice sounded off, cheery in an almost too cheery sort of way. Suddenly everything was becoming claustrophobic and Dean was only making it worse by moving closer.

“I need you to trust me ok?” Dean had his hand extended to you, just as you went to take it, the bathroom door opened. Instead of your mom outside, Matt stood in front of you two.

“Matt? What-“

“What am I doing here? Well, I knew something was wrong when that brother of yours,” He turned his gaze from you to Dean, “started chasing me and shooting at me. I just had to get away from work to check on you, princess.” The nickname was sour and only now did you notice the blood on his pressed, white shirt and his khaki pants.

Fear made your stomach sink as he tugged you outside of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Horror replaced that when you saw both your parents, dead, blood covering the white tiles.

“N-no! Mo-Mom!” You sobbed. Dean tried his best but an invisible force shoved Dean roughly against the wall. Tears quickly sprung to your eyes as you tried and failed to pull away from Matt. “Please..Please just let me go. I..I’ll stay with you.” The words didn’t seem to sate him, his hand gripping on harsh enough to leave bruises of his fingertips into your skin. Matt was pissed and just as he was going to leave your home, in rushed another man. Taller than Dean, he silently looked around from you to his brother and then back to you.

Matt sighed as another invisible force sent this man back. Dean was finally picking himself up. “Nice to see you made it, Sammy.”

“Shut up, Dean.” That must have been Dean’s brother that he mentioned. They sure were doing a good job on saving you. The two brothers pushed themselves up. Matt turned his attention to Sam.

“I was so sure I lost you back there.” He smiled and brought your back to his chest, helplessly you felt the tip of a knife against your throat. Dean stepped towards you and it only made Matt press the thing harder against your neck.

You screamed, not caring if you looked weak for being scared about all this. “Just leave us alone!” Matt cried. “Can’t you see we’re happy?” He asked. Dean’s eyes never left yours, it did it’s job in making you feel calm. You had to calm down…calm down and think.

“It’s not real Matt. This isn’t the real Y/N and you know that.” Sam stepped closer, only causing Matt to drag you backwards.

“We had a good first date! I call and ask what I did wrong and she tells me I was rude. Called her fat, and insulted her interests.” Matt’s voice was getting louder and each word unlocked memories. They seemed so real, fresh, like they’d just happened. “I try everything and tell her she just misunderstood but she wouldn’t believe me. If she’d just believed me-“ Anger replaced the fear that you had felt as you stomped on his foot. It was enough of a distraction to pull away from him.

Dean smiled in surprise and extended his hand and just as your fingers brushed over his, pain washed over you. So much pain that it crippled you to the floor on your hands and knees. Sound became muted and you lost a grip on what was happening. Matt was so shocked by what he’d done to you that Dean was able to raise his gun and shoot him. The guy probably didn’t even notice.

Your hand moved behind your back to feel the knife that had been in Matt’s hands now lodged into your back. “O-Oh..” If this was all really just a dream, it sure didn’t seem like it from the way the pain was invading your every sense. Dean dropped to his knees as he cradled you. Matt hadn’t seemed to have died yet. He was sputtering about and coughing up blood.

“Y/N, Y/N stay with me ok? You just gotta hold out until he’s dead.” Deans instructions were fuzzy. It was hard to pay attention, but he gripped onto your hands. “C’mon princess…Don’t die yet.” He smiled weakly at you and as much as you wanted to stay awake for Dean, your body wouldn’t let you. You drifted off, into the unknown. Although not concerned as much as you should have been with whether or not you would wake up.

Thankfully, you did. Your eyes blinked awake and sat up slowly, only to then realize that there was no pain in your back. Dean stared back at you, it was a little shocking to see him…in real life. Dean had been fuzzy back in the dream, but now..in this hospital room, you liked how real he looked.

Sam blinked awake beside him, his eyes softening as he saw you were ok. He stood up and grabbed his things their.

“Y/N? You ok there?” Dean asked and grabbed onto your hand. There was an ever present beeping beside your head.

“Yeah Dean. ‘M fine…” You trailed off. “I mean, an insane guy that I’d only been on one date with imprisoned me, but other than that..” It..It was weird because you had no idea how this had happened. “Is Matt..”

“Matt won’t be a problem. I swear.” Dean’s eyes lifted to Sam’s in a silent communication only brothers could have, asked Sam left to give them a moment alone.

“Good..Good.” Dean didn’t offer up what that meant, but you trusted that it was the truth. “Yeah..Yeah..Ok.” You whispered. “Thank you..for saving me.” You smiled back at him and leaned forward to press your lips to Dean’s in a thank you.

A gentle smile graced his lips, but you knew you had to pull away. “You do that to everyone you’re thankful of?” He asked and you shook your head no. “Guess I’m just that special?” He asked.

“You’re impossible.” It only made you want to kiss him again. So you did…again and again. You liked living in the real world. The one where Dean was there to save you.

~~~

Dean laid awake in bed, contemplating on whether he should get out or stay in. Things in the bunker had been tense, very tense. Sam and Cas both had started going silent. Even when probed, neither would say more than one word answers. 

His mind drifted to his dreams once more. Recently, it’s all he’d been able to do. Now, with another dream about Y/N on top of the other, most of his thoughts were being clouded by yours. 

During research, eating, even showering. He felt wrong when he thought of you and Dean worried he was going to get an idea that there really was a girl like that out there for him. 

So Dean did what he always did, he shoved you and the stupid dreams down, and off his mind as far away as possible.


End file.
